


Centroid

by prairiecrow



Series: Geometry [20]
Category: Knight Rider (1982), Torchwood
Genre: Background Polyamory, Caretaking, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Jack Feels, M/M, Male Pregnancy Through Science, Mood Swings, Mpreg, Naked Cuddling, No Sex For Once, Non-Monogamous Marriage, Pregnancy, Secret Names, Tears, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight centuries ago, Jack Harkness made a resolution about never ever getting pregnant again, no matter what. He's really wishing he'd stuck by that decision, because he's six months along and he's finding the mood swings plus the episodes of amnesia increasingly difficult to cope with. (Oh, and his back can stop hurting anytime now, thank you!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Looking back on the incident over the course of future decades, Jack Harkness could never quite decipher the emotional alchemy that turned a simple solicitous query into an explosive trigger, no matter how hard he tried. He did, however, have plenty of time to reflect that he really should have stuck to his resolution, made almost eight centuries ago, about never _ever_ getting pregnant again, no matter what.

It was a little like being hit by a tsunami out of a clear blue sea. One second he was standing in the middle of the oak-and-white-plaster kitchen of Blackmoore Manor, staring at the iron frying pan he'd just removed from its hook over the cooking island and wondering dimly exactly what he'd intended to do with it; then, in the space of maybe three more seconds, KITT happened to enter the kitchen and see fit to ask a sympathetic question —

"Oh, are you hungry? Would you like me to make you an omelette?" 

— and then —

As the frying pan shot across the kitchen in KITT's direction, Jack had just enough time for a flash of memory: himself, nearly six and a half centuries ago, getting a coffee cup thrown at _his_ head because he'd tried to comfort his own pregnant wife during an emotional meltdown. As KITT ducked the flying utensil with catlike agility and the frying pan bounced off one of the vertical wooden wall beams, he also had time to reflect that history certainly had a way of repeating itself — only this time _he_ was the one resorting to physical violence because something, somewhere, finally had to give.

Even in the year 2617, human males did not naturally carry fetuses to term — hence the cunningly engineered uterus, grown from Jack's own DNA, currently implanted in his abdominal cavity, and hence the hormone micro-pumps that were topping up his system with the right blend of estrogen and progesterone to keep the baby nestled in his belly safe and growing strong. Doctor Emelus Zindan was the foremost expert in induced human male pregnancy in the Virgo Cluster, and during his last visit to Jack and KITT's small but stately mansion on Tarrakon IV he'd declared Jack to be in excellent health, a textbook example of healthy progression at the six month gestational benchmark. 

Which meant that little Norbert was happy, at least. The same couldn't always be said for his parent, who'd been feeling increasingly moody over the past three weeks — also normal, Doctor Zindan had assured him — and experiencing more and more random incidents of sudden and complete forgetfulness. _Pregnancy brain,_ Rowan Lindecker had told Jack cheerfully during her last visit, _or momnesia, take your pick!_ She'd borne two children of her own, so presumably she would know, and perhaps that was also why she seemed to take a positive delight in stopping by from time to time to watch Jack's abdomen swell, and his usually confident masculine stride degenerate to a less-than-dignified waddle, and his razor-sharp mind being worn away centimetre by centimetre in the rising fluxes of estrogen and progesterone. 

He'd impregnated her (unintentionally), and she'd agreed to pass the job of incubation over to him (completely intentionally), and as KITT straightened up again in the wake of the frying pan, staring at Jack in wide-eyed consternation, Jack let out a yell that encapsulated all his physical discomfort, mental frustration and hormonally fueled rage:

_"YOU DID THIS TO ME!"_

Consternation became outright disbelief. "I most certainly did not!"

"I — you —" Of course he hadn't, he was an android, and as human as he looked (except for those glowing red-in-black eyes) he was incapable of impregnating anybody, much less his very male husband — and Jack, even as infuriated as he was, had to concede that point. Still —  "But you _agreed_ to it!"

"That's not at all the same thing," KITT pointed out, eminently reasonable, which just made Jack want to grab an even bigger piece of cookware and try some target practice with _that_ instead. Of course you could hit KITT with a truck and he'd suffer no lasting ill effects, and oh, the thought was tempting — but staring into KITT's puzzled face, so handsome under its sleek cap of pulled-back blond hair, Jack experienced a sharp savage urge to stride across the tiled floor and take that face in both his hands and kiss it into silence, to unbind the android's long ponytail and stroke it out with slow hard fingers, to grab KITT's firm ass and pull hard, grinding their erections together —

— except there was currently a big fat swelling in the way, and not the sexy fun kind either. Which only made Jack more inclined to rip something apart: he had to clench his fists hard to stop himself from making a lunge for another frying pan off the rack, and oh Goddess, was that a stinging he felt behind his eyes? No, oh God _no_ , he wasn't going to start crying, he'd just gone through a sobbing jag last night — 

And here was KITT, looking at him with concern and pity in those beautiful alien eyes, and he couldn't take it, he just _couldn't_ , that kindness in spite of all the irrational fury seething inside him, that gaze that told him he was loved, no matter how bloated and emotional he'd become, no matter now much worse things were going to get before this was over. 

He felt fat, and ugly, and suddenly utterly miserable, and he just _couldn't_ — couldn't argue, couldn't explain, couldn't think straight. He couldn't even remember to make an omelette five seconds after walking into his own kitchen, for fuck's sake!

He was pregnant, his back hurt like a bitch, and he was _done_.

"You," he ground out through clenched teeth, "I, _hrnngh!_ " He turned on his heel and stormed across the kitchen and out the back door, not even pausing in the mudroom to grab a coat before slamming through the outside door — which hummed silently closed on inertial hinges, depriving him of even the satisfaction of a good loud _bang!_ for his buck. He was running so hot that the cold spring air outside barely cooled him down through his loose pajamas and open bathrobe, and he hardly noticed the damp snow riding up over the top of his indoor slippers with every angry stomp of his swollen feet as he proceeded down the shallow paved steps into the sunset-lit garden beyond.

But the indignant stomping barely lasted past the second door: he'd gotten maybe two metres when the baby inside him started to wriggle, probably in response to the stress hormones currently lighting up his nervous system like a Christmas tree. The sensation forced him to gear down to a more typical hip-sprung waddle, with his ass stuck out and his feet braced wide like a duck's, while he rubbed the sides of his protruding belly in circles with both hands and muttered at the bulge: "Easy, Norbert… c'mon, settle down… it's okay, Daddy's just a little annoyed right now…"

Norbert wasn't convinced. He kept kicking, and Jack winced all the way down to his favourite place to sit and think, a long bench under a spiral-branched dorval tree overlooking the lake beyond the sloping foot of his property. He made it to the bench and plopped down onto it, not even bothering to brush away the lingering cushion of last night's snowfall: immediately he could feel the already damp snow start melting under the heat of his body, soaking through his robe and pajama bottoms, but he didn't try to get up — for one thing it felt good to have a concrete reason to feel sorry for himself, and besides, the thought of marshalling his resources to heave his bulk upright again made him feel a little bit like weeping anew.

In his mind, a respectful tap on his mental shields, accompanied by a warm glow at his temples: KITT, querying his status through the empathic link of the nanite colony they shared. He resolutely ignored the attempt at telepathic communication, took a deep breath, and started to lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands between his —

Oh, _Hell!_

Jack Harkness slumped against the back rest of the cold bench instead, wiped at his eyes wearily with the fingers of his right hand, and barely resisted the urge to flop over onto his right side in the snow and just give up and die. (Not that it would do any good — he'd only resurrect anyway, with the same damned backache and Norbert flailing irritably in his belly.) KITT hadn't repeated the query, leaving him feeling poignantly alone in spite of the fact that he was the one who had put so much angry distance between them, and he sniffled, abruptly aware of how cold it actually was out here in this empty garden barely emerging from winter's embrace.

He was cold, he was alone, and dragging his swollen body over the wrought iron fence and jumping into the lake beyond was starting to feel like a better idea with every passing second. What the Hell had he been thinking? Hadn't once been enough? He could be anywhere, doing anything — he could still be out playing privateer, a starship at his command and the whole galaxy his oyster — and instead he was sitting here with a wet ass and tears in his eyes, having just attacked the one thing he'd always loved no matter what. He was a piss-poor excuse for a human being, he was a hot mess, and if KITT decided to clear the hell out and leave him to wallow in his misery he wouldn't blame the android in the — 

Norbert gave a particularly energetic wiggle and bestowed a pointed kick just below Jack's belly button. He automatically rubbed the spot, briefly smiling in spite of himself through the blur of his own tears.

"Easy, Tiger," he murmured, and came to the only possible conclusion: "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." He let silent tears track down his cheeks while he stared out over the golden-lit icebound lake, feeling the robust heat of his own healthy body glowing in the early spring chill and taking slow deep breaths, trying not to think about anything much beyond that.

When he felt another tap through the dedicated empathic network he and KITT shared, a notification that the android was about to leave the house and come find him, he sent back a pulse of grudging acknowledgement. And sure enough, his husband did not disappoint. 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't more than twenty seconds before Jack heard the back door open and close, then light swift footsteps crunching down the snowy paved stairs in his direction. He didn't look round — truth be told, he felt pretty sheepish and he wasn't exactly eager to meet KITT's earnest direct gaze.

"Jack?" The tone of that crisp tenor, so tender and concerned, made him even more ashamed of the impulsively hurled frying pan. Norbert kicked once more, almost petulantly, then settled down as KITT came slowly round into Jack's line of sight from the right, a steaming blue cup cradled in his ungloved hands: he needed no protection against the elements, his inorganic body perfectly comfortable in its indigo dress trousers and ebony ankle boots, so gracefully elegant in white shirtsleeves and buttoned-up black silk vest. "I brought you a cup of tea, but you really should — wait, are you sitting in the _snow?_ "

Jack tapped his fingertips on his thighs, and looked away to his left, and shrugged casually. "Well, y'know —"

"You're coming inside _right now_ ," KITT scolded, setting the cup aside on the stone-topped table to the right of the bench without a second glance. "I've made you an omelette — Quorax cheese and white asparagus with plenty of pepper, just the way you like it. It's keeping hot in the oven, so come along and —"

"Thanks." He forced himself to meet his lover's scowling gaze, and to smile awkwardly. "No, really — I mean it."

"Then why aren't you getting up?" KITT asked pointedly.

"Because my back hurts, dammit!" Jack flared, then closed his eyes and drew another deep breath. When he felt a little less like yelling at the top of his lungs he elaborated in a deliberately restrained voice: "My back feels like it's fucking broken, and everything tastes funny, and half the time I can't keep food down anyway. I'm nauseous, I'm bloated, my feet are the size of footballs, I haven't seen my own genitals in weeks — and I'm growing breasts! _Breasts_ , KITT!" He brought both hands to his chest to frame his pecs, jiggling his new curves with disgusted fingers. "Look at them! If this keeps up I'll be a D cup by the time the kid is born!"

A smile crooked one corner of KITT's thin lips, even though he was clearly trying to be duly solemn. "I sincerely doubt _that_."

"Easy for you to say," Jack griped without shame. "You're not the one with a basketball stuffed inside your abdominal cavity!"

KITT sighed. He stepped up to the bench, brushed the seat to Jack's immediate right fastidiously clean of snow, then settled himself primly beside his disgruntled husband, crossing his legs at the knee and resting his hands neatly atop his right thigh. "Doctor Zindan examined you only three days ago, and he —"

"I remember!" The resentful snarl was back. "I'm pregnant, not lobotomized!"

"Then you'll recall that he declared you in excellent health," KITT countered. "'Everything is proceeding exactly as it should' — those were his exact words."

"Yeah, in some weird bizarro universe where men get pregnant!" Jack glowered a couple more seconds, then blinked fresh tears from his eyes and gestured dramatically at his own body. "Look at me: fat, sick, half-crazed by hormones… I'm a mess, a complete and utter disaster!"

"Jak'xhim Ardain," KITT said quietly but clearly, and the use of his Name Indelible had the effect of focussing Jack's attention marvellously, "you're the same man I married six hundred and eight years ago: brave, intelligent, and handsome beyond compare." He smiled with unrestrained fondness and turned to face Jack more fully, reaching out to cup the left side of the human's jaw and coax him to meet his gaze, then briefly caressing his left breast before laying a warm firm hand on the curve of his belly. "Yes, even now," he said gently, sending waves of unqualified affection into their empathic interface. "The only thing wrong with you is that you're outdoors in your pajamas, sitting in a puddle of ice-cold water with your slippers full of snow, which can't be doing your metabolism any good whatsoever. Please, darling — come back inside? There's a full pot of fresh tea made, and I'll run you a nice hot bath while you eat your supper."

Which only succeeded in making Jack sniffle again, shaking his head as if to banish the ache if keen gratitude rising in his heart. It didn't help, and he had to knuckle away fresh tears. "I don't deserve you, y'know that?" A maudlin laugh, almost a sob. "I never did…"

"You deserve the best of everything," KITT chided, "and I certainly qualify. Come on, I'll help you up…"

Jack let KITT take hold of his right arm and half-lift him onto his feet with easy strength. "Did you hear what Rowan called me?" The sting of indignant tears surged into his eyes again, but he sniffed them back resolutely.

"Which time?" KITT asked tartly

"Last weekend. Big Grumpy Daddy Duck!" He had to sniffle again, harder, at the mournful memory of his long-gone dashing male figure. "Now that was just _mean!_ "

"She also brought you a big box of Taxan chocolate truffles, remember? To tempt your appetite?"

"Yeah," he had to admit as KITT led him back up the path with one hand behind his left elbow and the other under his forearm. "She did. Any of those left, by the way?"

"Amazingly, yes. I saved three of them for just such an occasion."

The prospect filled him with a delight completely out of proportion to the weight of a trio of small round truffles. He wrapped his left arm around KITT's shoulders, pulled him in roughly, and pressed a hearty kiss to his right temple before breathing into his ear: "You're wonderful, and I love you, and if I could telempathically bond with you all over again you know I would, right?"

"Actually," KITT purred, slipping his right arm around Jack's lower back and holding tight while transmitting happy smugness, "I was thinking that we could hold a recommitment ceremony when you're a little less…"

This time the laugh was sincerely joyful. "Melon-shaped?"

"'Indisposed' was the word I was thinking of."

"Sure, why not?" He nuzzled at KITT's hair as they approached the back door, savouring the scent of it: clean musk, plus the perfume of pheromones keyed to him and to him alone. He was feeling chilled now, and the android radiated perfectly lovely heat.  "It's been, what, a hundred and ten years since the last one?"

"One hundred and eight years, forty-seven days, fifteen hours and thirty-two minutes, give or take." KITT sent a silent command to the manor's neural net and the door hummed open to admit them. "But really, who's counting?"

They walked back into their home wrapped in the telepathic glow of each other's love, smiling into each other's eyes, all momentary physical infirmities temporarily and blissfully forgotten.

********************************************

As soon as they got inside KITT fetched Jack a towel and a dry bathrobe, and helped him strip and wipe down and get wrapped up comfortably right there in the kitchen. While Jack ate the omelette and drank his tea at the kitchen table KITT drew a hot bath, then took him upstairs and settled him into the blessedly warm water, smiling with pleasure at Jack's moans of pure bliss. He set the tub's jets to massage Jack's aching back and tended to everything else, even to washing Jack's hair; and when Jack was dried off and lying on his right side in their wide soft bed, naked and half-asleep, KITT rubbed lavender-scented lotion into his bloated feet and administered a slow thorough back rub that left him in an utterly boneless heap, with scarcely enough energy left to even muster a bleary groan of pleasure when KITT undressed and keyed off the lights with a thought, then slipped into bed behind his husband and snuggled companionably close in the darkness.

Jack, drifting, could feel KITT not just as a body tucked up against his, not just as an arm around his waist or a pair of lips pressed softly to the back of his neck, but as a fundamental part of his inner world: a bright unfading pattern of energy infusing his flesh, a steady steam of data flowing over his mind and soothing him the last little distance toward sleep. He reached out empathically one final time, a warm surge of drowsy gratitude:

_< <Love you, Beauty…>>_

KITT responded at once, clear and fond: _//And I love you, Jak'xhim — forever, no matter what.//_ He laid his steel-boned hand around the lower curve of Jack's belly, cradling and sheltering both his lover and the life within. _//Now go to sleep. I'll be right here in the morning, waiting for you — always.//_

As Jack slid away into peaceful darkness he wondered how he could have ever doubted such devotion for even a second, no matter how many hormones were currently ricochetting around inside his system — because whatever else in their lives might change, together or apart, whatever the distance between them, this deathless empathy they shared was one constant that would neither change nor fade… 

… and in the decades to come they were going to raise a family, and hold children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren in their arms, and bequeath the Harkness surname to future mortal generations. The glittering expanse of shared immortality beyond that brief century or two wasn't as important as those images of domestic comfort, of smiles and laughter and enthusiastic hugs and innocent kisses — a shining promise that sent Jack to sleep with a smile on his lips and simple homely contentment in full command, for once, of his restless undying heart.

THE END


End file.
